Well, that’s not much of a title for a cooking blog, is it? Sorry, it can’t be helped, I’ve been dealing with a variety of bugs recently.

I’m recovering from my third bout of summer pneumonia. No, not three illnesses this summer, but the third time I’ve had pneumonia during a hot Arizona summer. Go figure! And, I know, it’s not officially summer yet but … more on that later.

The first time I was diagnosed was over the 4th of July weekend, back in the late ’90’s. I specifically remember that date because we had to cancel our annual 4th of July Pool Party. The first and only party I’ve ever canceled.

The second time was during the last week of summer cooking classes in 2009. That was the sickest I think I’ve ever been. I still taught the classes, but if not for my son, Connor, being my assistant, and the fact that I was no longer contagious, that would have been the first and only summer session I would have had to cancel. I made a deal with my doctor; Connor would do all the setup while I stayed in bed. I’d get up to teach the 3-hour classes each day and then go back to bed while Connor cleaned up. I was supposed to stay there until the next day, but that was impossible. I had to do some of the setup and prep, but Connor did the bulk of the work that week. It was pure misery.

And here I am again. It came out of nowhere over the weekend. But three days of antibiotics and I’m on the mend. I’m not feeling great enough to cook up a storm. Not that I even want to cook – it’s too damn hot to think about anything but cold soups and salads and as many liquids as I can tolerate. Look at the forecast for the coming days. I mean … Seriously!!!

That’s what I’m talking about. It may not be officially summer, but in Arizona, official seasonal starts and stops make no difference whatsoever!

OK, so illness is not the only bug I’ve been dealing with, the other is an actual creepy-crawly bug. I have a beautiful pomegranate tree that produces big beautiful pomegranates each and every year. Sounds heavenly, doesn’t it?

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Today I’m sharing images of our last three days in London.

Despite the passport issue, this was a good trip. But before you see that, you must hear all about my “passport saga” – because a trip isn’t a real trip until you have a dramatic story to tell!

It’s a long, but rather entertaining story, with a lesson attached. That being said, I’ll intersperse the story with my London photos… just to add a little lightness and joy to it instead of all ulcer-inducing – which is what it is.

Our flight to Heathrow was scheduled for 7:40 PM on Friday, July 11th. At about 1:00 PM on Wednesday, July 9th, I received this email from Dave;

“I’m sure you have already thought of this, but just making sure that all 3 of our passports are on site and you don’t need to go to the bank to retrieve them from the safe deposit box.”

Of course, I’ve already thought of that. In fact, I retrieved all three of our passports back in March when I got mine out to go to Spain. I was pretty proud of myself and was going to grab the passports from the shelf above the kitchen desk, where they had resided these last 4 months. Instead, I responded to another email from Dave about another issue and then I had to do some research and follow up on that issue. Once I was done with that, about an hour later, I got up to get the passports. I looked at each one and then I saw it…

OMG! How could this be? There is no way this is true! I can’t believe I didn’t notice this when I took out the passports four months ago! Connor’s passport was expired! EXPIRED! It expired in February of 2012! Holy Sh#t! Now, what am I going to do!?!

When the four of us (Marissa included) last got our passports, either new or renewed, back in 2007, they were good for 10 years! How could Connor’s be expired!?! Mine doesn’t expire until 2017. Dave and Marissa’s expire in 2017. How can his have expired in 2012?

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These mouth-watering BBQ chicken thighs were inspired by a recipe from the Pioneer Woman, Ree Drummond.

When it comes to making bbq chicken quarters or just anything bbq related, there are many ways to make a recipe your own. For me, all I did was switch out peach preserves that she used to kick up some purchased BBQ sauce with red pepper jelly to really spice it up. The result – fantabulous!

These are what I was baking while the haboob rolled into and over Scottsdale and did a number on my 4th of July decorations the night before the party.

I neglected to let you know how all that turned out … it was fine. I spent the latter part of the night trying to track down all the blow-up stars that had been hanging from the front pillars. They were blown all around our cul-de-sac. I found about 2/3 of them that, the dark, and the rest the next morning. I was able to hang up and repair all the damage from the storm. So all’s well that ends well!

Now on to my bbq chicken.

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Two years ago today, I read an article in The Arizona Republic about a suburban farm. The Simple Farm is a mere four miles from my house, on Cactus Road. Perfect, I live off Cactus Road! I cut the article out with the intention of checking out the farm later that summer. The Simple Farm is only open to the public on Thursday mornings and at the time I was in the middle of my summer session of kid’s cooking classes.

Classes ended that year in mid-July. I never made it to the farm, not after classes ended, not for the rest of 2012 or all of 2013. I’d drive by, although never on a Thursday morning, and think, “I need to plan a visit!”

What is it that keeps a person from doing something they have every intention of doing? Is it just me, or do you do that too? Is everyone like this or do I have a problem? I am a procrastinator, I know this. But two years?!?

Anyhow, Sheila called me last Thursday and asked if I wanted to meet her at The Simple Farm. I honestly could not go that morning, but I asked her to ask me again next week. Next week was yesterday, and I finally made it to The Simple Farm. It will not be the last time! It is a charming slice of the country in the middle of the city – Simply Wonderful!

Part of the wonderfulness is that they raise goats. Big goats.

Sweet little baby goats!

Of course they have chickens.

They love their chickens.

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Happy October! 

I am so happy that it is finally October!

I love October!!!

Now that I got that off my chest, allow me to invite you to the …

2013 Fall Craft Party

It’s hard to get back into the groove of making dinner after a 3-week trip away from home. This all-in-one meal was the perfect “ease into it” dinner to get me up and going again.

I had planned on cooking the chicken and vegetable foil packets outside on the grill, but we had torrential downpours all day long. Not that I’m complaining! We LOVE rain in AZ and using the oven worked just as well.

Yes, we love rain in the desert, even when it floods our backyards and patios – as it did at my neighbor, Carol’s, house. Carol posted this on her Facebook page yesterday and graciously allowed me to use it.

I was out driving around in the flooded streets, determined to get to Sweet Salvage this month. More on that tomorrow.

I not only love rain, but I also LOVE coming home, no matter how wonderful a trip we’ve had. I try to get the window seat on the plane because it brings me complete joy to look at my beloved Arizona and my hometown when we fly over it. Yep, it may be cliche, but there really is no place like home.

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Before I tell you about Superstition Farm, I must mention my shock and sorrow over a tragedy that occurred here in Arizona late yesterday.

Nineteen firefighters – all members of the Granite Mountain Hotshots – an elite response team, were killed Sunday battling a fast-moving wildfire near Yarnell, marking the deadliest single incident for firefighters since the September 11, 2001, attacks.

The fire, which investigators believe was sparked by lightning, also destroyed more than 200 homes and buildings in the town which is home to about 700 people.

A photojournalist friend of mine was there and posted this on his Facebook page yesterday at 7:30 pm.

via Chencho Flores

This morning, Chencho said it best on his Facebook post:

“Finally home after one of the longest and most heartbreaking days of my career. Say a prayer for the families of the Granite Mountain Hot Shots.”

Offering my thoughts and prayers for the heroic souls lost and the families and friends left behind. God bless them all. Absolutely heartbreaking.

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This is a recipe I posted nearly four years ago, very soon after the birth of this blog.

Since it’s been so long and is buried deep in the archives, I feel it’s time to remind you about the summertime goodness and refreshment of my cucumber martini.

Cool cucumber, tart lime, luscious lime-simple syrup, herbal gin, and a boat full of ice  …  what more could a parched girl living in a sweltering, arid, suffocatingly hot, dry, scorched, oven-like desert want?

OK, honestly, maybe a bowl of ice cream … but even without the ice cream, this cocktail will do just fine!

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When we left for Hawaii on May 22, the peaches on my tree looked as if they would be ripe any day.

Connor would be coming home on the weekends while we were away and Marissa was home one short weekend for the wedding shower of her college roommate, Paige.

The wedding is in August and Marissa is a bridesmaid.

I told both the kids and my dad to keep an eye on the peaches and to please please please pick and eat them. I hated the thought of the luscious fruit going to waste.

If not picked, they’d either fall off the tree and rot or more likely, the bugs would get to them as soon as they ripened. The idea of it made my stomach actually ache.

When we arrived home on June 3rd, surprisingly there were still peaches on the tree! My dad said that they were always hard as rocks when he checked and I never did remember to ask the kids if they had any.

The little fruit flies, gnats, or whatever those nasty little bugs are, had already been to work on more than 2 dozen of the peaches, but I was able to pick a decent boxful! Joy!

I made a delicious Peachy-Chicken entree one night (coming soon to a post near you) and today I am using the last of the peaches for this dessert.

It’s a partially-make-ahead dish. I’m starting it today and we will be enjoying it on Sunday for Father’s Day.

Of course, I had to make one serving from start to finish so I could photograph and post it for you today.

The things I do and the sacrifices I make for you people!

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While riding our bikes home from Lisa’s Cinco de Mayo party a couple Sundays ago, we spotted a neighbor’s “trash” on the side of the road. Amy, Scott, Ronnie, Dave, and I made a u-turn on our snazzy wheels to check it out.

There was a big-screen television, a satellite dish, four Adirondack chairs, a bunch of boxes and toys… and a rustic outdoor couch. We moved the TV to the street, piled onto the couch, and snapped a photo of our intoxicated selves. What can I say… that tequila punch was really potent… and tasty!

Then we rode our bikes home and Scott and I went back with my car because I needed that couch! Either Dave was too tipsy or more likely, too embarrassed because he wanted nothing to do with my dumpster diving ways.

Note: Drinking and driving don’t mix… this house is in our gated community, no intersections or major streets were involved in the excursion… it is only two cul-de-sacs away.

As a point of reference, in the photo above, I am standing in my backyard looking across at Ronnie’s house. The “trash pile” was in the next cul-de-sac – just behind her house. The big trash pick-up was the next morning. Please forgive.

When we drove around the corner, we were aghast! There was another car there, picking up stuff. They better not lay their grubby hands on that couch of mine! Alas, all they wanted was two of the Adirondacks.

We loaded up my couch, I dropped Scott off at home and then forced Dave to help me unload it. He begrudgingly obliged.

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